Apple Blossoms
by Zyre
Summary: Draco and Ron cross the line between hatred and love beneath the apple trees. Warning: Slash.


Disclaimers: I don't own them! Trust me, I wouldn't be having near this much fun if I did.   
  
Warnings: A bit o' fighting and lots and lots of boys. Being slashed by *me* hehe. Read at your own volition.  
  
A/N: A million bazillion thanks to Kimagure, cause she absolutely rocks. You should all worship her like I do. *giggles*  
  
  
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I remember our first night together. I was in a foul mood for no good reason. I remember stalking down the hallways, casting withering glances at anyone foolish enough to be near me and occasionally aiming kicks at walls and statues. And as I walked past the window, I glanced out and saw you sitting alone by the lake.   
  
How could I resist such a singular opportunity? Of all the people in the world to encounter when in a bad mood, you were the best. I could taunt you and deride you, and you looked so tempting with your skin flushed and your amber eyes flashing and your fists clenched into small white balls of fury at your sides.   
  
I hurried out to the lake to you, and quietly came up behind you. I know you heard me anyway; I remember the way your back stiffened just a little and your head cocked the slightest bit to the right. If I hadn't been watching you with the eyes of an obsessed devotee, I would have missed those actions completely. I never missed a heartbeat when in your presence, though, and it surprised me to no end that you never noticed the way I took note of every twitch and tremble.  
  
I put on my best sneer, an easy feat considering my mood, and knelt down behind you, speaking softly. "What's wrong Weasel? Have you handed over presidency of the Potter Fan Club to Creevey for the evening?" I know it was a stupid remark and that I'm capable of better, more biting ones, but I was angry and all I really wanted was a fight. I wanted to see you angry and I wanted an excuse to touch you, even if it meant breaking your beautiful face.  
  
You spun around, your face already full of anger and confusion and a little bit of hurt that I would intrude upon your quiet. You narrowed your eyes bitterly and turned your lip up, revealing a row of white teeth, and I noted, not for the first time, how your canines were slightly longer than normal and there was a tiny gap between your two front teeth. Minor imperfections that only served to compliment the illusion of innocence that you carried. Despite the anger in your features, you waved a dismissive hand and turned back around, unwilling to grace me with what I most wanted.  
  
"Why don't you just shove off, Malfoy?" Your voice was soft, but I could hear the bitterness and sarcasm just itching to be released. "I'm sure you'd have more fun torturing kittens or something equally horrible."  
  
I have to admit, that one hurt just a little. That you could see me as so completely heartless was just...well. Unfair, but I suppose in your eyes I never deserved any more. In your eyes I was nothing more than an ignorant asshole, who picked on those weaker than me. And I wanted, suddenly, to show you that you were the one who's response I cared about. To show you exactly why I wasn't going to shove off, why your reactions meant so much to me as opposed to someone ignorant enough to forget about my slights and carry on with their life.  
  
I stood up and very carefully brushed off my robes, staring down with just exactly the right amount of disdain. "At least I can afford friends who won't leave me alone by the lake." My voice was dangerously soft, inviting you to retort.   
  
Your reaction was nothing like I expected, though. I'm amazed that, when you jumped up and faced me, there were tears in your eyes. You were far too angry with me to let them fall, but there they were nonetheless. I thought, for a moment, that you were really going to hit me, but my luck would not have it.  
  
"Fuck you. Why are you such a goddamned asshole to me? Can't you find someone else to make miserable for a fucking hour?" Your face was so unbelievably perfect, so filled with emotion. I could read everything in your eyes, every ounce of pain and anger and frustration and hate and desire.   
  
~Because you're the only person who ever shows me emotion,~ I wanted to reply. ~Because, after the indifference of my parents, I'll do anything to see someone react to me. Because you're beautiful when you're feeling, because I can see everything in your eyes, because I feel so powerful to be able to make you feel so deeply when no one else can.~  
  
"Because you make it too easy, Weasel."  
  
And I'd lost you. You thrummed with the desire to take out years of anger and frustration, but instead you walked away from me. You walked away from *me*, something that no one is allowed to do. Out of desperation and curiosity I followed, trotting along behind you towards a small grove of apple trees behind the greenhouses. It was spring, and the scent of the flowering trees washed over us as we drew near. It was almost intoxicating, rich and alive and lovely.   
  
I paused for a moment, and that's all you needed. You turned and with amazing speed you pounced. I remember the pure surprise I felt as I watched your fist coming towards me, and the almost disconnected way it hurt when you punched me in the stomach.  
  
I really can't remember much about the actual fight...just that after you hit me I couldn't just stand there. I tackled you, despite the fact that you were a good four inches taller than me, and much broader in the shoulders. We rolled around, trying to get leverage and throwing off-balanced punches at each other haphazardly.   
  
I have no idea how long that went on, the growling and anger, but you finally managed to pin me down by the shoulders. You were glaring down at me spitefully, and trying to catch your breath. I was in a very similar state, panting and uncomfortable because of the litter of sticks and small stones beneath me. I closed my eyes, trying to collect myself, and attempted to open them with a sneer, but what I saw took my hard-won breath away.  
  
You were framed by moonlight, and it shone brightly in the red strands of hair sticking up all over the place. Your face was shadowed, but I could see your eyes well enough, glinting almost dangerously like tiny embers in the darkness, surrounded by a halo of pure, soft light. The branches of the apple trees wove themselves delicately together above your head, surrounding your brilliant profile with life and beauty.   
  
I'm sure the look on my face must have been very startling. You loosened your hold on me a little and cocked your head to the right again, just a little, in the way that had become such a striking testament to you in my mind. With your head turned, I could make out the features of your face better. You just stared at me, deep in thought, before finally daring to speak.  
  
"M-Malfoy? What are you staring at?" You peeked behind your back quickly, making sure nothing was there, and of course, nothing was. I was staring at you.   
  
I reached up and placed my finger across your lips gently. "Shh. Your lip's bleeding, Ron..." You looked startled, both at the realization that you were injured and that I'd called you by your first name. Before you could speak, however, I arched my neck up and very carefully sucked your bloody lower lip into my mouth, and to my surprise, you didn't pull away and start yelling. You didn't move at all, which I took as a good sign, and so I freed one arm from your loosened grasp and gently cradled the back of your head, sucking diligently on the wound until I stopped tasting your blood.  
  
And even then, I didn't release you. Instead I ran the tip of my tongue lightly over the slightly swollen flesh, felt you tremble above me, and it suddenly struck me as amusing that you are bigger, stronger, and on top of me, and I was still in charge. With a delighted groan I parted my lips and pressed my tongue into your mouth, wanting to get a reaction, wanting you to kiss me back and wanting you to love every minute of it, but at the same time wanting you to push me away and hate me.  
  
I realized that I didn't deserve your love, your passion, your intense desire, your emotions. I shouldn't have been allowed so close to you, and the thought only drove my tongue deeper into your mouth, and my fingers clung more tightly to your beautiful, silky red hair. Despite all of it, you suddenly kissed me back. I could feel your mouth pressing insistently against mine, and you pressed your body close to me and wrapped an arm almost tenderly around to cradle the back of my head, while almost violently ravaging my mouth.  
  
I was so pleasantly surprised by your passion that I willingly let you have control, and tangled our legs together. I remember that you tasted like vanilla and a little bit of mint, which only served to heighten my desire for you. I ran my fingers over and over through your hair, peeking up sometimes when we broke for air and watching it reflect the moonlight brightly.   
  
And then you began to unbutton my robes, bending to kiss and suck at my pale skin, and at one point you looked up at me and smiled and said "I like marking you." And of course, I moaned and encouraged you, because I loved to have you marking me. I never would have thought you'd be so possessive, but I should have guessed it. Insanely loyal, even to your enemies.  
  
I remember everything about that night. I remember the way you tore my shirt in a desperate attempt to get at my skin, and how I lost your favorite pair of boxers somewhere under the apple trees. I remember the way your arousal smelled, and the way you were so excited to get everything off of me and own me and at the same time you were so gentle. I hated the fact that I let you have me, and I loved it. Being completely surrounded by you was everything I needed, everything I'd been missing in my life. You filled me completely that night, in every possible way, and I'll never forgive you for that and you'll never let me.   
  
I know we lay together for a very long time that night. We were thinking the same things, though neither of us articulated them: we are enemies, but enemies do not have wild passionate sex in the apple orchard while bathed in moonlight. We are enemies, but enemies do not understand what it feels like to be the other. We are enemies, and yet we fit together so perfectly, your chin resting on the top of my head and my breath steady against your breastbone. We are enemies, but enemies are not allowed to fall in love with each other.  
  
When we parted, it was with regret and not discomfort. You dipped your head and kissed me sweetly and walked away, and I knew that meant we'd see each other again. I remember running after you, suddenly, and gently plucking a small flower from your hair, and smiling at you, and you shook your head and walked away. I held it in my palm and examined it, pure and white and tinged with red at the center and along the fragile edges. I've still got that tiny flower pressed in a book, as a reminder of how perfectly we fit...red and white together to create perfection.  
  
And now...now I wake up next to you some mornings and watch the sunlight dance across your lovely face and illuminate your hair, and I remember that night. I remember the way you made me feel for the first time ever, and the way I gave you the love you craved.   
  
It was a perfect beginning. 


End file.
